


And Stay A While

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, also kittens bc why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:45:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: When Madi tells Clarke that Mr. Blake requires her assistance, she assumes he's been hurt or taken ill in some way. When she arrives at his farm, more than one revelation takes place.





	And Stay A While

**Author's Note:**

> what period of history is this? don't worry about it. I just saw [this](http://josesheerio.tumblr.com/post/166178104273/id-like-to-be-him) and wanted to write Bellamy covered in kittens.

"Clarke, Clarke!"

"You're late." Clarke says mildly, not looking up from the pan simmering on the stove. She's not about to look away from it just to give Madi a pointed look. Not after what happened last time.

"You're needed."

She does look up sharply at that. She wouldn't call herself a doctor, but she'd watched her mother tending to her patients enough her whole life that she's the closest thing they've got for several miles.

"Needed?"

"I was over at Mr. Blake's farm, and--"

Clarke douses the fire in the stove and wipes her hands on her apron. "Go get my kit. And be quick about it."

Madi opens her mouth to protest but she shoos her on. Clarke is halfway over the ridge that separates her land from Mr. Blake's by the time Madi catches up to her, kit in hand.

One day she might make a living of her own just as Clarke has-- by remembering what she's seen, what she's watched Clarke do, and deciding that she can do it, herself. Or deciding that she can do something else, and doing that instead. Running a farm, or a tavern, or whatever she likes. Tradition be damned.

Theirs isn't the most traditional of families anyway. When Madi was just a tiny thing, her parents had perished from a sickness that Clarke couldn't treat. They had both been alone, and so the only thing to do had been to take her in. Several years later, and she still remembers her mother too much to call Clarke by anything except her name, but she is Clarke's and Clarke is hers, and the words they use don't change that.

"He's in the barn," Madi says, skittering out of the way when Clarke changes course abruptly. Her usual calm has been usurped by a tight press of her lips and the too-fast thrum of her heart. It's nice to think she would feel the same sense of charity for anyone ill or hurt, but she knows herself too well to attribute her jangling nerves to anything but her inconvenient feelings toward her neighbor.

"Bellamy?" She calls upon entering the barn, too filled with worry for his well-being to worry that he'll take offense to her using his Christian name. His horses survey her with mild interest before returning to their supper.

"Miss Griffin?"

He sounds bewildered, but not in pain. It calms her some.

"Where are you?" She calls unnecessarily, as Madi leads her to the farthest stall.

"In the back, you'll have to-- oh, I see Madi remembers how to work the latch."

"It isn't as if it's difficult," she grumbles, but there are notes of delight in her voice as well. Clarke rounds the corner, still fearing the worst-- a bad fall, perhaps, or having been injured by one of the animals.

Instead, she finds him seated against the side of the stall, book in hand, covered in kittens.

And by 'covered in kittens', Clarke means _covered_. They're climbing precariously across his broad shoulders, batting at his dark curls and then retreating as if preparing for retaliation. There are several wedged between him and the wall-- on the back of his neck, tucked behind his lower back as he slumps-- and a few more in his lap. One clings to his forearm, where his shirtsleeve has been rolled up to avoid shredding by its claws. Clarke tries not to flush at the sight; she was expecting that she might have to see him far more indecent than this. Instead, she tries to focus on the truly _astounding_ number of kittens and reconcile it with the past few frantic minutes.

Madi has already sunk to her knees, not caring whether she dirties her dress when there are tiny creatures to be cooed over. One of them ambles toward her on wobbly legs, like a bitty, drunken sailor.

"Thanks for coming," Bellamy says, flashing her a smile. It does nothing to slow Clarke's pulse, but she manages a stern expression as she kneels beside him.

"I was _told_ it was an emergency."

"I never said that."

"You never clarified either."

Madi looks up at that, minor guilt flashing across her face before she grins.

"You were moving so quickly. I was afraid you'd make us wait and eat whatever you were ruining the taste of if I corrected you."

"You were concerned about me," Bellamy gloats. Clarke purses her lips against a smile.

"I was no such thing."

"You were _alarmed_." He reaches out and drops a kitten in her lap, which promptly begins to try to climb her front. It won't go well for the kitten when it reaches her bosom, so Clarke scoops it into her arm to give it another route to her shoulders.

"That cannot be proven."

"Really, it's you who should have been worried about us," Madi says, laughing as the kitten swipes one of its paws curiously at her face. "Clarke was trying to cook again."

"The hell were you doing that for?"

"Because it's suppertime and we needed to eat?"

"That's why I'm teaching Madi."

"Well, someone's kittens made her late home," Clarke says, only slightly petulant. They act as if she isn't a competent adult. As if she didn't feed herself successfully for years before Bellamy moved in next door and Madi came to live with her. Granted, his simple meals have been much tastier. But she'll never admit that to him, or anyone else.

"Besides," she adds. "I could be taught."

"No, your brain is too old. Or you're too cursed. One or the other. I've given up hope on that front."

"Cursed," she scoffs, putting a hand up to steady the kitten as it continues to scale her like a cliff, moving past her shoulders, up to the crown of her head.

"Don't fret," Bellamy reassures her, grinning when she winces at the pull in her hair and reaching to untangle the kitten and lift it down again. "You may yet find yourself a nice wife who can cook."

"Or a nice husband."

He blinks, his expression shifting. "You would take a husband?"

"Not just _any_ husband. But if you thought I preferred women, you would be wrong. I like men and women both." Clarke keeps her eye on the kitten wandering over to investigate her, rather than looking at Bellamy.

Society's rules mean less out West, but preferences like Clarke's are still kept rather hushed. That he realized at all she might have moved out here in order to marry whom she pleases-- just as he did, with his bronze skin a few shades too deep to fare him well in the cities back East-- is encouraging, but she worries how he might react all the same.

"Anyway, I may take neither husband nor wife," she says suddenly. "I've already found myself a nice neighbor who will teach my daughter to cook for me and hold it over my head. What need have I of marriage?"

"None whatsoever," he says, and when she does look up to his face, he's wearing a cheeky grin. "And in exchange for such a service, I would like you to confirm that these kittens are in perfect health."

"Only if you fix us supper, since ours is wasted."

"It was wasted before I called you away."

Clarke snorts softly but doesn't rise to the fight, instead lifting the kitten nearest her to look it over.

"This one is a boy."

"Incredible. How lucky I am to have your expertise at hand."

Clarke scowls at him. "That is about the extent of my examination. I don't know a thing about cats, or animals in general. You likely know more than I, what with all your livestock. How did you come by them?"

"I heard their mews when I came to put Balius and Xanthos in for the night," he shrugs. "I suppose their mother must have found this a warm place to birth them. Perhaps she'll return for them. But just in case--"

"You want to make sure they're taken care of properly."

"You don't?" He challenges. The smile that has been slowly winding inside of her finally cracks wide open.

"Of course I do. Look at them." She strokes a finger over the top of one's head and it chatters at her in response. "But I might have watched from afar to see if the mother would come back. You're all heart, so you rushed right in."

"Yes, and look where it got me," he says gravely. "Smothered in the adorable little things. It's truly miserable to be lead heart-first."

"Quite."

Clarke examines the rest of the litter to the best of her ability, then drags both Madi and Bellamy indoors for a proper meal. When they finish, the sun is setting over the ridge and the sky growing dark. Bellamy walks them to the edge of his property, a blanket in hand so the chill in the air doesn't freeze the kittens overnight.

"You called him Bellamy," Madi points out on the way home. "I didn't even know that was his name."

"You gave me a fright."

"Sorry," she says, unrepentant. Then, "I don't think he knew you were eligible."

"Everyone knows I'm eligible. Just as they know I won't marry for security's sake."

"Eligible to _him_ ," Madi clarifies, a spring in her step. "I think he fancies you."

Clarke resists the urge to look back up the ridge in the dim light, though she knows he's probably watching their progress, making sure they arrive safely at their doorstep.

"I think you're scheming to get custody of those nine kittens."

She grins. "I do. But that's not the only reason."

"Mm hmm."

* * *

A few days and many, many visits to the kittens later, Clarke is cutting new bandages in her kitchen when there comes a knock on the doorframe and Bellamy pokes his head inside.

"Bellamy. I mean--"

"Please, don't go back to calling me Mr. Blake." He smiles tentatively and the air grows a few degrees warmer.

"Where's Madi?"

"Trying to teach the kittens to do tricks."

"A Sisyphean task, to be sure," she says, delighting when he looks pleased at the reference.

"She seemed determined." He runs his hand through his hair, looking slightly nervous. "I wanted to invite you for dinner tonight. I bought some steaks when I went into town this morning and thought I could show Madi how to prepare a meal that was a little nicer than what she's used to."

"I don't know. I wouldn't want her to become accustomed to a life of luxury," Clarke teases. He relaxes and smiles, crooked but soft.

"With as many times as she's had to eat your cooking, I doubt one night would change her outlook much."

Clarke swats at him with one of the strips of cloth and he dodges, laughing.

"I would be glad of your company," he adds. Clarke feels heat rise to her face.

"Well, we can't have you lonely, now can we?"

"I shudder at the very thought."

"Then it's decided."

She accompanies him on the walk back to his farm, relishing the warm autumn sun on her skin and wishing she could take his arm. Then wondering where that wish came from.

"What will you do with the kittens?" She wonders. "Once they're old enough to be on their own."

"Give them away in town. I wouldn't mind it if they wanted to stay, but I worry that they'll go hungry if they have to compete against each other for their meals."

"I think we'd like to take one. I haven't discussed it with Madi, but I'm sure I know what her answer would be."

"She's barely let herself be separated from them all week. I feel fairly certain she won't object."

"Yes, so do I." She pauses at the top of the ridge, looking down over their lands sweeping as far as the eye can see on either side. She plucks a wildflower, a weed really, growing nearby and twirls it in her fingers. "Although, as I've said before, I don't know much about animals."

"Cats can take care of themselves."

Clarke laughs and holds the flower out to him. "I had designs of needing your expertise in order to spend time with you, but if cats are so self-sufficient, I'll need to find another excuse. My poor cooking, perhaps."

His smile blooms across his face, a lovely thing, as he takes the flower from her.

"Are you trying to woo me, Miss Griffin?"

"Surely if I am to call you Bellamy--"

"Clarke."

His voice is quiet. He reaches up to tuck the stem of the flower into her hair, letting his fingers trail behind her ear. It's more than he's ever touched her before, and it makes Clarke's breath catch.

"Madi thought you might not have known," she stammers. "How I-- Well. How--"

"I didn't know." His thumb caresses her jaw. "Though I confess, when you told me, I did hope. Not only that you cared for men, but-- for me in particular."

Clarke can't stand it any longer. She wraps her hands in his lapels and crushes herself against him, her lips landing hard and off-center of his. He stumbles backward, laughing as he attempts to right them before they tumble all the way down into the valley. His arms wind around her as he kisses her back, one hand playing with the end of her braid while the other keeps steady between her shoulder blades, holding her to him.

When they part, he looks as if he might gloat again.

"Don't say a word."

"Who needs words?" He kisses her again, quick and still smirking like the cat who caught the canary, but when he turns toward his house, he offers her his arm. "Shall we?"

"Yes, please."

* * *

Many months later, when they marry and move their things into Clarke's house, she teases him that she did find a nice husband who could cook after all.

"Although," she says, resting her chin on his shoulder as he works magic with her stove, "I suppose 'nice' is a relative term."

"What are you talking about? I'm nice."

Clarke hums and slips her arms around his middle. "Nice to _look_ at, maybe."

"Ugh." Madi is making a face and shielding her cat's eyes when Clarke turns to look at her. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't be so--"

"Affectionate?"

"Mushy."

"It's my wedding day." Clarke doesn't withdraw her hold. "Mushiness is encouraged."

"Starting tomorrow, then," Madi decides. "No mushiness allowed."

"Unlikely," Clarke admits. "But we'll see."

Bellamy places his hand over hers, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. "We'll take it day by day."

And that's exactly what they do.


End file.
